The one who has arrived has a long way to go. –Tomas Transtromer

Happiness

Happiness

I know these petals unless pressed in your own life’s book will not survive and even then as a shadow of love’s shape or unless adrift in your river’s endless flow come to outline any eddy worth circling and even then could gutter off a bank or regret’s cold stone where air tears at life’s evaporating edge or unless emblazoned with wing of robes softly opening to heat and even then burn only as a blindfolded assurance of need, need: or unless left alone a becoming drifts around it, swirls it down just so like snow a mile up lands finely at the foot of the sky